


Dance Me to the End of Love

by wintershelter



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintershelter/pseuds/wintershelter
Summary: Snapshots of Steve and Tony's ever evolving relationship in Timely.





	Dance Me to the End of Love

The first time Steve had ever met Tony was in the middle of a bar fight. Steve had been in his office when Sue had coming running in, telling him things were getting out of hand at the saloon. Steve had followed quickly after her. He opened the saloon doors just in time to see the first punch thrown. One of Fisk's cronies had drawn his fist back and the man with a sharp mustache and black hair was hit squarely in the jaw. The man stumbled back, half from the hit and half from drink but he smiled before launching himself at Bullseye. Steve lunged forward grabbing the stranger by the back of the back of collar, yanking him backwards.

“Simmer down, everyone.” Steve commanded, his voice echoing through the establishment.

Bullseye turned to Steve. “He started it.”

The man in his arms huffed, breathing roughly but only glared at the Bullseye.

“Go home, Bullseye. I'll take care of him.”

Bullseye narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists, looking ready to argue with Steve. After a tense moment, Bullseye sneered at Steve before turning on his heel and storming out.

Steve watched him leave, adjusting his grip on the man in his arms. “C'mon, you're coming with me.”

“Awfully forward of you, Sheriff.” The man quipped. “You didn't even buy me dinner first.”

Steve felt his cheeks redden at the brazen words and was grateful the man wasn't facing him as he marched him out.

“You're not from around here, but if you value your life you shouldn't be starting fights with Fisk's men.” Steve warned, leading him out of the saloon doors and down the street.

The man gave a haphazard shrug. “He was being an ass.”

Steve snorted. “I don't doubt it. I'm just telling you to be careful. They've killed for less.”

The man turned to him, eyes focused on him sharply. “They killed someone you knew.”

It wasn't a question.

Steve nodded, guiding the man up the stairs to his office. “My old deputy, Bucky.”

The man gave him a long look. “I'm sorry.”

Steve nodded. “I just wanted to warn you that despite my best intentions, they hold a lot of the power here in Timely.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Sheriff.” The man said, giving him a two fingered salute.

“Steve.” Steve felt compelled to add. “My name is Steve Rogers.”

The man smiled at him brightly. “I'm Tony. Tony Stark.” He offered out a hand.

Steve blinked. “Stark. As in the gun?”

Tony's smile flickered but stayed on his face. “Like the gun.”

Steve could tell there was something Tony was sore about but decided to not press the issue, instead taking Tony's hand and shaking it. “Well, Tony, are you planning on sticking around?”

Tony considered him for a moment. “I think I just might.”

* * *

Tony did end up sticking around. It was actually through town gossip that he discovered that Tony Stark was actually _the_ Tony Stark. Infamous weapons manufacturer. Tony himself rarely talked about his past and Steve had gathered most of his information about Tony from the town rumor mill.

Tony spent most of his time frequenting the saloon and Steve never pressed him about his past, not wanting to dispel the easy camaraderie they had, but things were never that simple in Timely.

“Hey Sheriff.” Tony said in greeting, lifting his glass in salute from his seat at the bar.

“Stark.” Steve said, taking a seat down next to him.

Tony smiled drunkenly at him. “So what brings you down here?”

“Mr. Constance died last night.” Steve said without preamble.

Tony frowned. “I'm sorry to hear that.” He said, taking another sip of his drink. “He was a good man.”

Steve nodded his agreement. “That he was. He was our town blacksmith, which means we're in need of a new one. I was thinking maybe you would be up for the task.”

Tony flinched like Steve had burned him. “No. Sorry.”

“What? Why not?” Steve asked, feeling confused. “You have the skill for it.”

Tony sighed. “That's not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“The problem,” Tony hissed, “Is that I swore I'd never lay hands on another weapon as long as I live. I can't help you Steve, I'm sorry.”

Tony hurriedly snatched the bottle of whiskey off the counter and walked out before Steve could respond.

Steve sat there for a moment, stunned. After he shook himself from his stupor, he went to stand up and follow Tony but a small hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Give him a minute Sheriff.” Jan said kindly, having witnessed the exchange.

Steve sighed, knowing she was right and ordered a drink while he tried to get his head on straight.

He left the saloon an hour later and found Tony sitting on the back steps of his office. Tony was still holding the whiskey bottle but a third of it was gone now.

Steve sat down next to him but didn't speak for a moment, not wanting to spur another fight with Tony by saying the wrong thing.

Tony picked at the label on the whiskey bottle. “I can't make guns. Not again.” Tony said quietly.

“I'm not asking you to make guns.” Steve promised. “There are plenty of other things this town needs. Horseshoes and nails and-”

Tony looked up at him suddenly. “And weapons, Steve. And I can't. I can't have more blood on my hands.”

“Your guns have kept me safe more times than I can count.” Steve reasoned.

Tony gave him a sad smile. “But just how many more people have they killed? I can't wash all that blood off my hands, I can't.”

Steve didn't have anything to say to that, but Tony offered no resistance when Steve pulled the bottle from his hands. “C'mon, Tony.” Steve murmured, helping the drunk man to his feet.

Steve half carried, half dragged Tony to his cot in the back room, setting him down on it. Tony closed his eyes immediately, too drained to protest.

Steve took off Tony's shoes and tucked the man into bed.

Eventually Tony's breathing evened out and Steve went back to his desk to keep vigil over him. He had some work to get done anyway.

* * *

“I'll do it.” Tony said to Steve the next morning.

Tony was up surprisingly early for just how much he'd drunk last night but Steve covered his surprise with a grin. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony looked a little awkward and adjusted his waistcoat. “Thank you. For last night.” Tony clarified with a strained grin.

Steve smiled at him warmly. “I'll always be there to take care of you.”

Tony seemed a little disbelieving at his response but nodded. “Right, well, I guess I need to go and reacquaint myself with a blacksmith's shop.”

Steve nodded. “I'll be by later.”

Tony shoulders seemed to relax a little at that. “I'll hold you to that.” He inclined his hat to Steve and left.

* * *

Steve made it a habit.

Every time he saw Tony working in his shop, he stopped in.

True to his word, Tony crafted a lot of things, but never any weapons.

They shared their first kiss in the blistering heat of Tony's shop. Steve had been the one to make the first move, but Tony had eagerly responded.

After that, Steve and Tony's relationship became the town's worst kept secret. Partly because Steve always made sure to see Tony during his rounds and partly because Tony kept serenading Steve outside his window.

As the months continued, their relationship continued to grow.

Things were good in Timely and Tony dared to hope they'd stay that way for once.

* * *

Steve was dead and nothing mattered.

Steve had been killed by a gun he had made.

Tony knew there was no atoning for his sins and they had come back to bite him in the worst way possible, to ruin the only good thing in this life.

He had tried to get himself killed by avenging Steve's death and taking on Fisk's men, but he couldn't even seem to do that right.

Tony leaned his head on Steve's tombstone, tears running freely down his cheeks.

“I'm so sorry, Steve.” Tony choked out. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...”

He desperately wished he had some whiskey to numb what he was feeling, but he wouldn't betray Steve like that. Steve had always objected to his drinking. Besides, he deserved to suffer for what had happened.

“Tony.” A voice said and then a hand came down on his shoulder. Tony didn't shrug it off.

“Tony.” Steve's ghost said again. “Look at me.”

Tony just cried harder.

He felt the pressure lift off his shoulder before gentle hands turned his face upwards. Tony opened his eyes to see bright blue ones staring back at him.

“I'm so sorry.” Tony choked out.

“It's okay, Tony. I'm okay. I'm here.” Steve said.

It was just as well that Tony was hallucinating now. It was no less than he deserved.

“I'm not a hallucination.” Steve said, brushing a tear from Tony's face. “I'm really here.”

Tony shook his head and buried his face in Steve's chest, desperately clinging to Steve's apparition before he disappeared and left him for good.

Steve shushed him soothingly and pressed a kiss against his temple. Tony felt as his limbs were rearranged and he was lifted off the cold ground. “I've got you now.” Tony's hallucination promised.

Tony clung tightly to Steve's shirt and felt his eyes slip closed.

* * *

Tony came to feeling warm and safe. He opened his eyes and stared at the familiar ceiling and jolted violently when he realized where he was. Steve's place. He had vowed never to set foot in this building again. Tony tried to get out of bed but a firm arm tightened his grip on him.

“Easy, Tony.”

Tony turned his head to stare at Steve. Steve who was laying next to him. Tony could clearly see the rise of fall of his chest and feel the heat coming off his body. Tony inhaled sharply and scrambled at Steve's shirt, pulling it down to see his chest. Tony put a tentative hand on Steve's skin, tracing the ridged keloid scars over his heart.

He had thought he was hallucinating in grief last night, but now in the cold light of morning he knew this was real. Steve was alive.

“How?” Tony gasped out. “I saw you die Steve. How are you here?”

Steve grabbed his hand and kissed it lightly. “It's a long story. I promise, I'll tell it to you later.”

Tony nodded, willing to do anything Steve asked of him in this moment. Tony shifted himself so he was laying half on top of Steve, ear pressed to his sternum. He felt the reassuring thump of Steve's heart and felt the tension slowly ebb from his body. Tony closed his eyes and relaxed against the steady beat of Steve's heart and the reassuring press of his hands rubbing his back.

* * *

“Ready to get to work, partner?” Steve asked, stepping up beside Tony, hands on his hips.

“I'm ready.” Tony said with a nod.

Steve smiled at him, and even though he knew Steve wouldn't be able to see it behind the face plate, Tony smiled back.

Steve seemed to know and gave Tony a friendly pat on his arm before stepping down on the street. Tony followed, ready to protect Steve should the need arise.

Tony dared himself hope that it was going to be a good year in Timely.


End file.
